


A Night at Home

by adafrog



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adafrog/pseuds/adafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: A Night Alone<br/>Author: Adafrog<br/>Fandom: Strachey<br/>Ratings/Warnings: PG, none<br/>Summary: Donald spends a night alone.<br/>A/N: Written with the tied up challenge in mind. Probably not what they were thinking when they made the challenge, but it’s what popped into my mind.</p><p>Written in 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night at Home

Donald walked into the house, waiting for Watson to enter before he shut the door. “Just you and me tonight, Watson. Timmy’s tied up at work, so we’re free men.” He hung up his jacket, and Watson’s leash. “Like when we were bachelors, eh Watson?” 

Watson ignored him, and ran into the kitchen, sitting down by his bowl. As Donald moved into the kitchen, Watson started looking between him, and his food cupboard. 

“Well, I was going to offer you anything you wanted for dinner, but I see Daddy’s gotten you too well trained,” he mocked, giving Watson his dinner. “I, on the other hand, am going to eat exactly what I want.” 

Pausing in his enjoyment of dinner, Watson watched as Donald started rifling through the cupboards, muttering to himself. Snuffing, he turned back to his bowl, and nudged it a bit more out of the way.

Huffing in frustration, Donald closed the cupboard door, and turned to Watson. “Don’t we have anything easy to cook?” Getting no help from the dog, he rolled his eyes, and headed for the phone. “Pizza it is, then.” 

 

An hour later, Donald and Watson sat comfortably on the couch, watching a TV program, and finishing up the remains of dinner. “Now don’t tell Daddy I gave you this,” he said, feeding him a piece of pepperoni. “I’d get in so much trouble, and we don’t want that, do we, Watson?” 

Watson looked up at Donald, then took the pepperoni. Licking his lips, he looked back up, hoping for more. 

“That’s it, Watson, no more pizza,” he said, closing the box, and throwing it on the coffee table. He grabbed Watson, and pulled him close as he sprawled out on the couch.

A few minutes later, Donald sighed, and ruffled Watson’s fur. “You know, right now we’d be shushing Timmy for mocking the characters. Kind of nice to enjoy this in peace, for once.” He rearranged himself on the couch, and yawned. “Not as comfortable, though.” 

Finally making it to the end of the show, Donald jumped up. “Okay, what next Watson?” Wandering into the kitchen to throw away the pizza box, he looked at the computer. “We could do something on that,” he looked uncertain, “couldn’t we?”

Watson looked from the computer desk to Donald, and whined. 

“You’re right, bad idea.” Looking around the immaculate kitchen, he shook his head. “Nothing to do in here.” He sighed, and looked back at Watson. “What does Daddy do when he’s home alone?”

Barking, Watson started towards the stairs. Once he saw that Donald was following him, he trotted into the bedroom, and jumped up on the bed, making himself comfortable. 

“Reading in bed?” Donald picked up Timmy’s book from his nightstand. “This is a new one.” He frowned at the cover, then flipped it over, reading the back. “Where the heck does he get these books?” Tossing it back on the table, he shook his head, amused. “Definitely not this one.” 

He continued on into the bathroom, and got ready for bed. Deliberately not thinking about the clock, and how early it was, Donald threw his shirt into the hamper, and looked back into the bedroom. Still not inspired, he crawled into bed, and sat there, idly scratching Watson. 

Finally giving in, he sighed, and scooted towards Timmy’s side. Glaring at the book, he snatched it up, and began reading.

Several hours later, Timmy dragged into the house. He hung up his coat and case, and after several tries, managed to get his shoes off. Slowly making his way up the stairs, he finally made it to the bedroom, and stopped short, smiling at what he found. 

Timmy quickly changed into his pajamas, and made his way back to his side of the bed. He gently pulled the book from his sleeping husband’s hands, then set it on the table, and turned off the light. 

Donald sleepily blinked up at Timmy. “Mmm….you’re home. Come to bed.” He reached up for Timmy’s hand, trying to pull him in. 

Rolling his eyes, Timmy sat on the edge, and started bumping Donald with his hips. “You need to move over, then,” he replied fondly. 

“Okay,” he murmured, scooting over as Timmy slid in beside him. “Glad you’re home.” 

Timmy smiled, and snuggled into Donald’s arms. “Me, too.”


End file.
